“Hey,” I parrot back. I don’t get the game, but I play along.
She smiles and shifts, digging her tailbone into my thigh. Fuck, that hurts worse than taking a stick to the face. At least the latter is over quickly instead of this constant, unrelenting jab.
I’m not this guy, sitting around with a random girl I’m not interested in draped over me. Which is kind of the point lately. Whatever I’ve been doing isn’t working. Four different girlfriends in less than a year. That sounds like a lot, even to my own ears. I like being in a relationship, but I can admit that something needs to change. Maybe shallow interactions are exactly what I need right now.
The door to our apartment opens and our neighbors, Dakota and Reagan, step through. It’s just a small party tonight, but the living room is crowded.
“Hey guys,” Dakota says. She marches right in like she owns the place and motions for Maverick to move over so she can sit between him and Rhett.
Maverick’s dog, Charli, lifts her head from where she lies on the floor at his feet.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Dakota talks soft and sweet, highly un-Dakota like, to the dog.
Reagan is more hesitant and polite than her roommate. She waves and scans the room, smiling at everyone and presumably looking for a place to sit.
The only empty seat is next to me. I pull bony ass girl, Leah, higher up on my leg to make room and find some relief from her tailbone too.
“We’ve got room over here,” I say to Reagan. “Have a seat.”
She meets my gaze and then drops hers to the floor as she squeezes past us and sits as far away as she can. We’ve known each other for two years, but Reagan is sort of shy. I say sort of because I’ve seen her come out of her shell lots of time with Ginny and Dakota, but any time I’ve tried to talk to her, she’s quiet and hard to get to know. I always found it ironic how timid she is in person because on stage, she’s vibrant and alive.
“Did you find your scrunchie?” I ask.
“What’s that?” She leans closer to hear me. Honey blonde hair falls over her shoulder and tickles my arm.
“Did you find your lucky scrunchie?”
“No, but it’s not a big deal. I’m sure it will turn up.” She gets an embarrassed look on her face and pulls back.
She has no reason to be embarrassed, though. I know how possessive girls can be about their shit. Finding her in my room, searching under the bed for a scrunchie my sister borrowed—not even the weirdest example I can come up with. Once, Ginny had a meltdown, complete with tears, when I borrowed her concealer. I was seventeen, and it was prom night—I needed a little extra coverage hiding a zit in the middle of my forehead. Anyway, Ginny caught me with her makeup and she flailed and screamed, “It’s discontinued. That’s the last tube!” Then she didn’t talk to me for three days.
“I tore my room apart this afternoon looking for it.”
“You did?” Her eyes, brown with light flecks, lock on mine and hold. Her lips pull higher, and her dimples come out to play.
Leah shifts, making it harder for me to see Reagan. “I didn’t find it. Found some odd things, but no black scrunchie with gold stars.”
“What kind of odd things?”
“I think I might embarrass myself if I divulge too much.” I inch closer.
“Well, now you have to tell me.”
I shake my head. “Oh no. You wouldn’t share your bad artwork with me. Speaking of, I keep finding more glitter in my room. I went to class with it all over my face.”
“I’m sorry.” Reagan smiles shyly again and a small laugh escapes her lips.
“It’s cool. I—”
“Hey,” Leah snaps at her, cutting me off. “Find someone else to hit on. I was here first.”
I guess she does know more words. But man, gotta say, don’t love being marked like a spot in the line for the bathroom. I also don’t like anyone talking to my friends that way. Especially Reagan. She’s so sweet and nice.
The Reagan I know is gentle, slow to jump into a conversation, and has never been one to get in the middle of an argument. Dakota is the outspoken one, often speaking for the both of them, but she’s across the room and oblivious.
I’m slow to find my words, but I’m about to tell Leah she should find someone else to latch on to for tonight when Reagan morphs into a badass.
“You interrupted him.” Her tone is still quiet but firm.
“Yeah, to tell you to get lost. Do you not see me sitting here? He’s mine. I called dibs and I’m not going to sit here while you throw yourself at him all night and try to steal him.”
Reagan’s mouth opens, her cheeks flush. “I wasn’t…”
“I think it’s time for you to go.” I help Leah off my lap.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely. Reagan’s my neighbor and friend. I’m not cool with people treating my friends like shit.”
She gawks some more, as if she can’t believe I’m really turning her away.
“Whatever.” She adjusts her dress, pulling the hem down to cover more of her bare thighs. “This party sucks anyway.” She mutters something about hockey players being stupid, which feels appropriate after I said one word to her most of the night. Leah huffs all the way to the door and slams it shut behind her.
The rest of the room doesn’t even bat an eye. Girls running in and out of here, sadly it’s not an uncommon occurrence.
“Well, that was interesting.” I rub at my thigh with two fingers.
Reagan’s large brown eyes go between the door and me, then her shoulders slump forward and she giggles. “Did that just happen?”
“I think so.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare off your date.”
“Eh, it’s okay. You wouldn’t believe how bony her ass was. I think I’m going to have a bruise on my leg.”
“Somehow, I think you’ll survive.”
“Probably. I definitely need a drink though. Want something?”
Her eyes fall to her lap. “Sure.”
In the kitchen, I pour Reagan a glass of wine and grab myself a beer. She’s reverted back to looking timid and unsure, quiet. Now I know she has some fight in her, I want to see it again.
“You were scrappy back there.”
“Mean girls are the worst. Old wounds, I guess.”
I can’t imagine why anyone would be mean to Reagan. Aside from generally being one that hangs back out of the center of attention, she’s just so sweet and good. She has a way about her that makes people want to be friends with her. I know that’s how it was for me. The second I saw her, I wanted to talk to her and find out more about her. Being ridiculously hot probably had something to do with that too, if I’m honest.
Two years later, and I don’t know as much about her as I should for the amount of times we’ve hung out.
Leaning against the counter, I scan the living room. Guys from the team and the group of girls that tend to follow are piled into the tight space watching the Coyotes play Vegas. I’ve never dated from the jersey chaser pool, and now I’m remembering why. They outnumber us and more than one seems to have noticed that Leah left.
“Since you scared off my date, I think you’re going to need to stick with me.”